


Slow Dancing and Singing in Hotel Rooms

by rockland



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Honestly just fluff, M/M, One Shot, Richie Tozier's Trashmouth, and very gay, stoizer, they're jewish detectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockland/pseuds/rockland
Summary: Stanley Uris thinks that he hates his co-worker Richie Toizer but he soon learns the Trashmouth isn't too bad.or when two detectives attempt to fake a relationship.





	Slow Dancing and Singing in Hotel Rooms

“We should match,” Richie said as he unpacked his suitcase.

 

Both partners were standing side by side in front of one of the bed’s in their hotel room and both were digging out outfits they had packed for this next week. Stan glanced over at Richie’s suitcase and scrunched his nose up in disgust as he looked at all the rumpled clothes that were just in there. 

 

“Sorry but I doubt I have any hawaiian shirts from thirty years ago,” Stan mumbled and Richie chuckled. 

 

“That was a good one but jokes on you, Serg made me go get more ‘respectable’ clothing,” he said, making air quotes with his hands when he said ‘respectable’. “We are meant to dress and impress,  _ Mr. Benowitz _ ,” Richie said with a smile and stole a glance at Stan.

 

Stan sighed at the fake name that was assigned to him a week previous. Sergeant Harrison called the two rivaling detectives into his office and handed them each a folder once they sat down and the door was closed. 

 

_ “You’re going to a convention just outside of New York as undercover lawyers, all the details are in those,” he had said and nodded at the folder that was in Richie’s hand. The two sat there for a minute, silence taking over the room till Stan raised his hand slowly.  _

 

_ “Uh sir, it says that we both share the last name Benowitz, are we brothers?” He asked and Richie looked over at Stan, his glasses slipping down to the bridge of his nose.  _

 

_ “No,” Harrison said, opening his own folder, “you two are married. Harvey and Malcolm Benowitz.”  _

 

_ Stan felt his mouth go dry and his stomach knot up, he looked over at Richie who was still looking at him and sighed. It’s no secret that Stan couldn’t stand his fellow coworker. Richie had never done anything particular to Stan but he was just so messy and loud and highly inappropriate. Everything that Stan wasn’t. Richie’s mouth was slightly open and Stan rolled his eyes, mouth breather, he thought to himself. He brought his closest hand up to Richie’s face and pushed his glasses back up.  _

 

_ “Thanks hubby,” Richie said before Stan could say anything. There was a smirk on his face as he leaned closer Stan.  _

 

_ “Ugh,” he mumbled, putting his hand between them. “Watch it Toizer.”  _

 

“Staniel, we’re married now, you have to tell me more about you.” 

 

They finished unpacking hours ago and now the two were sitting on Stan’s bed (Richie invited himself to take a place next to Stan. Stan tried pushing him away but Richie wouldn’t even budge). Their backs were pressed against the headboard, they both held glass bottles in their hands (Stan had just finished his third and Richie his fifth) and there was some rerun of a sitcom from ten years ago playing. Neither of them were paying attention though. Richie was to focused on how close he was to Stan and how everytime one of them shifted, their thighs and shoulders grazed another. Stan’s mind was somewhere else, thoughts of anxiety running through his head. He’d been on dozens of undercover jobs but it’s always just him, this was new. 

 

“And what do you want to know Toizer?”  

 

“Anything and everything,” 

 

Stan laughed and looked over at Richie. “You tell me something and then I’ll tell you something.” 

 

“Deal,” Richie said. Stan turned his body to face the other man and Richie copied his actions. “My favorite,  _ favorite  _ movie is  _ Mannequin _ .” Stan laughed at that, his eyes squinting and threw his head back. 

 

“The one with Andrew oh . .  . what's his name?”

 

“Andrew McCarthy,” Richie said, helping him. Stan continued to laugh and Richie drew his eyebrows together and tried to hide his smile, he failed. “What’s so funny? That movie is a goddamn gem.” 

 

“Right, it is.” Stan said, composing himself. 

 

“What’s your favorite?” 

 

Stan thought for a minute before looking down at his lap. “You can’t laugh,”

 

“What the hell? You laughed at mine, why can’t I?” 

 

“Because it’s worse,” Stan said chuckling.

 

“Lay it on me Stanley,” 

 

“ _ Lost Boys,”  _ Stan said and Richie bounced up. 

 

“No shit! That movie is the best. The first time I saw it I was,” Richie paused for a moment to think, “I was eleven and I was with my mother and and the second Corey Feldman showed up-bam” Richie clapped his hands together and pulled them apart dramatically, mimicking an explosion. 

 

“Bam what?” Stan asked, turning his head to the side. Richie chuckled and looked away. 

 

“I realized I was gay.” 

 

Richie kept his eyes off of Stan for the first time all night. Around the office things were private, no one shared relationships with another unless the pictures were displayed on the desk. He felt bad for Richie and part of him wanted to reassure him and grab his hand but instead he only chuckled slightly. 

 

“Really? He wasn’t even the best of the Corey’s.” Richie looked back at him, a smile playing on his face.

 

“Take that back.”

 

“Never, it’s only the truth and besides we all know Kiefer Sutherland was the hottest in that movie,”

 

“The guy that was in  _ Stand By Me _ ? Hell no, that guy looks like a wet rat.” 

 

“You look like a wet rat,” 

 

Richie smiled and leaned forward, his large nose barely touching Stan’s. “Well it looks like you have a type.” 

 

“Gross,” Stan mumbled and pushed Richie away from him. 

 

“Careful hot stuff, I like to be pushed around.” 

 

The two ended up talking back and forth till almost one, learning more and more about one another. Richie ended up learning that Stan loved horror movies and bird watching. That he, as well as Richie, grew up Jewish, that the only bands he listens to are Queen (“Only the slow songs tho,” Stan had said, “Like ‘Somebody to Love’, that’s my favorite”), and  The Beatles (“Oh and I love George’s solo stuff, it’s beautiful”) and he  _ loves  _ Elvis Presley and Elton John . He also found out that Stan had four girlfriends in high school-which he hated, every one of them he told Richie.

“Then why date them?” He had asked Stan.

 

“My dad would set me up with the Jewish girls that went to temple and I wasn’t allowed to break up with them. They all broke up with me because I would always refuse to kiss them and whatnot.” 

 

“What? Little Staniel was afraid to kiss?” Richie said with a chuckle. 

 

“Actually,” Stan said with a small smile on his face “I was fourteen when I had my first. His name was Louis and he would always come over for dinner.” 

 

“Guessing you guys were good friends,” Richie said, looking at Stan. 

 

“Actually Louis was my mom’s boss. She worked at the bank in town.” Stan paused, looking down at his lap, scared to look at Richie. “He started coming over twice a week for dinner when I was six so it's not like he was stranger I guess. He was nice, very nice and handsome.” 

 

“Did he kiss you?” Richie asked, shocked. 

 

“Yes,” Stan said before asking Richie of his first kiss. It was some girl he grew up with, her name was Betty, Richie told Stan and a few weeks after the kiss she went missing. 

 

“Did they ever find her?” Stan asked. 

 

“No,”

 

Stan learned that Richie loves all music from Jimmy Buffet to Nirvana to Wu-Tang. Richie also told Stan about the band him and his best friends had growing up. He told the other man of the shitty Smiths and Cure covers they would do but for some reason people still showed up at the gigs. 

 

“You mixed the The Smiths with The Cure?” Stan asked, interrupting Richie while he was talking. 

 

“. . . Yes?”   
  


“Richard you moron, Morrissey hates Robert Smith.”

 

“Well fuck.”

 

Stan also learned that growing up he had broken his right arm five times and it amazed him. 

 

“How the hell?” Stan had asked to which Richie just shrugged and showed Stan the weird popping noise his arm makes now. “Ew, Richie, ew.” 

 

Richie also loves horror movies just like Stan and hates bugs and clowns. Stan sat and listened to Richie as he told a story about a time when him and his best friend ‘Bevvy’ got high in the woods and imagined bugs crawling over him just like the scene in that  _ Indiana Jones  _ movie Richie had compared it to. By the way he told the story, Stan had believed him but it ended up just being a bad trip. 

 

“Richie,” Stan mumbled grabbing one of Richie’s hands. “We should dance.” He stood, pulling Richie up with him. 

 

“My phone is dead, I can't play anything.” 

 

“Then sing, sing to me.” Stan was gone. His eyes were glossed over and his usual styled, curly hair was a mess. Though Richie had plenty more to drink, he felt pretty fine. His actions weren't like Stan’s, slurred and sloppy. 

 

_ “I’ve just seen a face,” _ Richie began singing softly. His chin was rested on Stan’s shoulder as Stan pressed his face to Richie’s chest.  _ “I can't forget the time or place that we just met but she's the girl for me.”  _

 

Stan grabbed the back of Richie’s head, running his hands through the dark curls, trying to untangle the hair. The other man placed his hands on Stan’s waist, holding him close. 

 

“I almost didn't recognize the song,” 

 

“Do you not like it my way?” Richie said, faking an insulted tone. 

 

“I love it your way. That's my favorite song ever. Continue,” 

 

_ “And I want the whole world to see that we met,” _ he continued to sing and started to slowly sway them back and forth.  _ “If it been another day I might have looked the other way, and I'd have never been aware. But as it is I'll dream of her tonight, di-di-di-di'n'di,” _

 

Stan woke up that morning to the sound of the shower running. He rolled onto side and groaned, closing his eyes and bringing his hands to his temple. Soon the water stopped and the bathroom door opened and Stan squinted his eyes just to see a blurry image of Richie walking out, steam following him and only a towel wrapped around his waist. Stan suddenly felt hot and knew he was blushing from his cheeks down. With eyes closed again, Stan turned onto his other side, his back now to Richie and he could feel eyes burning into the back of him. The sound of Richie opening and closing the dressers filled the room and Stan pinched himself wishing this was all a dream. There was a dip in the bed and Stan heard Richie sigh. 

 

“I know you’re awake,” his voice said and Stan groaned before turning back over to watch as Richie put on his socks.  “How did you sleep?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at Stan with a smile. 

 

“Fine,” he squeaked out and mentally cursed himself. Richie only chuckled and stood up. 

 

“What do you think?” Richie asked, stretching his arms out into a T-pose and began to spin slowly. Stan dragged his eyes up from Richie’s legs which were cladded with grey and black plaid dress pants up to his chest that was showing from the black button up that was tucked into his trousers. His eyes caught the small Star of David necklace on his bare chest and Stan thought back to last night, Richie telling Stan of his stories at temple. To top the look off Richie had his usual dark, messy, and curly hair slicked back. 

 

“Good,” Stan smiled, nodding his head, “really good.”

 

“Oh  _ Malcom _ , you sure know how to flatter a girl.” Richie said with a grin on his face and kneeled forward onto the bed making Stan extremely anxious. 

 

“Ugh, go away.” He groaned, shoving Richie off the bed and on his butt on the floor. Richie only laughed and looked up to Stan from his position. Stan returned the look, raising his eyebrow. The two continued to stare at eachother, Stan wanting to desperately look away but he couldn’t because Richie just looks so good right now and he feels lost. 

 

“I think it’s time we head back to our room don’t you Harvey?” Stan- no, Malcolm said, resting his hand on his husband’s shoulder. The woman they’re talking to,  _ Sophia maybe _ , simply smiled and said goodbye to the two, getting the hint. Harvey looked down at his husband, his glasses sliding down a bit. 

 

“Come on, the night is still young. Lets atleast go get some drinks. It seems everything in our room had just disappeared” Harvey said making a ‘poof’ sound. Malcolm looked around for a moment, dropping his hand from Harvey’s shoulder. 

 

“Okay.” Harvey smiled and grabbed his husband’s hand and dragged him to the hotel’s bar. 

 

“Go get us a booth yeah? I’ll get our drinks,” Harvey explained and the other man nodded and walked away. 

 

“You know Harv,” Malcolm began to say, his finger going around the rim of his third glass of the draft, “you should’ve asked me out sooner.” Harvey’s eyes shot up from the table to the man across from him.

 

“Huh?” He asked, pushing his glasses up. Malcolm looked away, eyes scanning the bar, too embarrassed to look at Harvey-no, Richie.  

 

“I always thought you were going to ask me out. All those jokes and and the touches every time you would walk past my desk. It really messed with me.” 

 

“I thought you hated me.”

 

“I do, I did. Ugh,” Stan grumbled and brought his hands to his eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion away. “You just confused me. Everyday at work I would secretly hope for those stupid jokes about somebody’s mom or something about how I looked that day. I would wait,” Stan chuckled and dropped his hands onto the table, shaking his head. “I waited for joke after joke, how pathetic is that?”   
  


“It’s not pathetic. You want to hear something really pathetic?” Richie asked, reaching his hand across the table to rest it on top of Stan’s. 

 

“I guess,” he replied, his eyes focused on their hands. 

 

“I knew this guy who thought his coworker was the most beautiful man he had ever seen but he knew the man hated him and wanted nothing to do with him so one day when he hears about a big case coming up, he begs and begs his boss to let him work with a partner on the case. His boss agrees but only after half an hour of begging and pleads.”

 

Stan chuckled, “That is pretty pathetic.” 

 

“I know, I’m a grade A loser.”

Stan looked up at Richie a small sigh escaping his lips.

 

“Can you take me back to our room?” 

 

Richie didn’t waste a moment before standing up and pulling the man with him back to their room on the third floor where they stayed up all night. Stan kept his hands around Richie’s neck all night, holding him close as Richie swayed them, his hands resting on the other’s waist so perfectly. A variety of songs escaped Richie’s lips, songs from Billy Joel (“Only _ Uptown Girl _ and  _ Piano Man _ Rich,”), David Bowie (“Can you sing  _ Heroes  _ again? And then the one that they play in  _ The Labyrinth _ during the ballroom scene?” “Sure Stan,”), The Smiths (“Can you sing anything besides _ I Won’t Share You _ ?” “No, it’s my song to you.” Stan held Richie closer after that, never wanting to let him out of his hold), and Richie’s own rendition of  _ Every Breath You Take  _ with Stan joining him at the end (“We are disgusting,” Stan mumbled, a smile on his face as he rested his forehead against Richie’s. “I know, I love it.” Stan only laughed and Richie thought he was going to fall over. It was really Stan though, his knees went weak after he sang  _ Baby It’s You  _ by The Beatles. He fell back, Richie landing on top of him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What?” Stan hissed. “Can I kiss you?” Richie asked then he did). 

  
  
  
  



End file.
